Title: A Tale of Two Worlds
Author: Samdelfino
Rating: G
Summary: Soon after arriving on a supposedly safe planet SG-1 are attacked by a group of Jaffa loyal to an apparant Goa'uld they are unfamiliar with. When things seem lost they are "saved" by the crew of Moya that believe they are on a Commerce Planet. Things become more complicated when Aeryn is captured, and Sam also appears to have disappeared. As you probably gathered from that I suck at summaries; but please do take a read anyway.
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing of Stargate: SG-1 or Farscape, not it’s characters, unfortunately. And I’m making diddly squat from this.
Note: I’ve gotten into Farscape recently, so any mistakes I might make related to Farscape I blame on my not knowing everything about the show yet. I’ve written Stargate before but this is my first attempt at anything Farscape related. It’s set around the season 2 mark of Farscape; Stargate timeline, after season 4 but before 7. You might notice that Sam is able to understand Aeryn, without me going into anything about translator microbes being used. The reason why will come up later, it’s because of my OC bad guy. Now on with the show.
Prologue
The screams all bended into one after a while, they echoed off the ice cold walls. Pleading, begging and wailing; but the screaming was the worst, it continued on forever. It seemed that way, near enough. She had seen all types being marched passed her cell the duration of her stay thus far; tough ones, weak ones, tall ones, small ones, old ones and the young. Nobody was safe from the Masters wrath, not even his own subjects. He had quite a temper too, not that he used fear as a coercing tactic straight away. No, he preferred the more psychological technique. The ones that did not die of pain or injury went mad. Maybe the incessant screams weren’t the worst sound after all; it was the Hyena like laughing. Crazed and maniacal, it was a reminder of what awaited those that did not submit. Those that death did not claim.
She had been to the torture chamber only once so far, though that time the pain was not physical. She was rather grateful for that. If she were incapacitated the odds of escape were greatly lessened. Then again, if she lost her mind she would be incapable of thinking up a plan let alone executing one. Perhaps she could not win either way.
Her own session had been interrupted by the arrival of another prisoner; a person that she sensed this Master was greatly interested in. What she assumed was the other prisoners belongings had been planted on the table. A knife, some piece of technology she did not recognise, a radio, a thick black vest and what looked like the crude weapon she had seen on the fake Earth, a gun. Did that mean she was on Earth? John had not described this manner of place in their discussions of his home before. Aeryn had watched the arrival of the other prisoner with interest. There was such a look of intense hate and defiance in the blue eyes of the female newcomer. She would be an asset in times ahead, if this woman was a strong as she first appeared.
The Master, as his minions referred to him, had not been fazed by her show. And instead he had seemed amused and had spoken in such a soft voice it was surprising he could be capable of malicious acts. “I will have fun with the two of you.”
As Aeryn thought back on that short session the day before it struck her suddenly that her captor had been able to understand every word she said. If she was on or near Earth, how was that possible? It could not be, unless they had somehow obtained translator microbes or something similar. There were so many questions buzzing in her mind. But right now none of that mattered. Her top priority was leaving this place.
A bowl of slop was Major Sam Carter’s evening meal. Was it evening? Could be morning, not that it really mattered. Her watch had been damaged in her capture so even if it had not been taken with her other possessions she would have been unable to tell the time. She glanced at the bowl, she had seen worse looking food, but wasn’t quite ready to have a taster just yet though. Even less so since it moved. Maybe she was hallucinating; was that really a two-headed bug she saw swimming in there? Maybe it was one of Nierti’s experiments gone wrong, not that they ever really went right.
Her cellmate shuffled forward along the hard and damp floor on bruised knees, he eyed the slop filled wooden bowl with a ravenous look. He was skin and bone, his ribs poked out; the faded holey shirt barely covered his pasty skin. “Take it,” Carter offered. He did not need telling twice. He began shoveling the ‘food’ into his mouth. A crunch confirmed her suspicion that a bug probably had been lurking around in there somewhere. Insect surprise, it was probably the best thing on the menu. Her cellmate looked like he could do with a bit of meat, and rather the mutated bug than her. As if remembering some manners he held the bowl out to her. Carter tried not to look at it with to much disdain as she politely declined with, “No thanks.”
She took her first proper look at her cell. It was dark, damp and dank and terribly cold. Somebody had forgotten to pay the heating bill. At the same time as hating the low temperature it was also a relief from the baking heat of the surface. There were five cells here; three were empty though one of those looked like it had been occupied recently. They were deep underground and if one did get out of this section a myriad of tunnels were next. Sam had been half drugged when first coming to this cellblock and was too out of it to even attempt memorizing the way out.
She would make every attempt at escaping but, Sam knew, SG-1 would find a way to get to her. And they never failed.
The main door to the cellblock creaked open and a hefty Jaffa bearing an emblem she did not recognise strode inside with the authorative air of a King of old. He stopped in front of her cell, sneering and full of contempt. Her cellmate moved by her to slip the dirty but empty bowl through the bars. The Jaffa took it and left. Dinnertime was over; it didn’t look like there was dessert.
As he came close Carter sensed something. It was the presence of a symbiote. It prompted her first question, “Who are you?”
He looked up from counting his fingers and the muttering he had begun seconds ago stopped. “Ty’Mac, Ty’Mac, that is my name. No more questions, no more. Can’t take more, don’t know anything else. Can’t help, can’t help.” His eyes moistened with tears that threatened to spill.
Sam swallowed, feeling nauseous. She watched him with pity, “Okay, no more questions.”
Aeryn was blanketed by shadow, and was not visible from the main door as yet. There was a torch hung on the far wall and that provided the only light and warmth; it was meagre but better than nothing. She observed the interaction between the other two prisoners, heard the ramblings of a man that had long since lost control of his faculties. But then again that is what Crichton had first thought upon meeting Stark.
She stepped forward and leant against the bars of her own cell. They were the first things Aeryn had checked upon being flung in here. The cell was primitive but sturdy. “They said he was a Tok’ra,” the word meant nothing to her, it was no a race she was familiar with. She thought perhaps it would interest the other warrior. A few microts passed before a reply came, Aeryn thought for a moment she had not been heard, or understood.
“Oh God,” Sam half whispered in disbelief. This apparent shell of a man was a Tok’ra? What had driven him to become like this?
“You know this word?” Aeryn questioned, dispensing with formalities for now. That could wait.
Carter edged as close to the bars as possible, enabling her to get an unobstructed view of the other woman. She hesitated before responding. This woman could not be a Goa’uld if she did not know of the Tok’ra, unless this was a trick and she had been placed in here to gain information. Was this the start of mind games or honest curiosity? Well it couldn’t hurt to tell her what she should already know. “Yes, they oppose the Goa’uld. Who are you?” A question for a question.
Noticing the cautiousness of the blonde woman and guessing what she was doing, a ghost of a smile appeared. Smart Aeryn thought. “Officer Aeryn Sun. And you?”
Sam knew her from somewhere, from recently. It came to her quickly; the torture room. Officer Sun had been there when she had been brought before the Master for the first time. But why? Interrogation or a meeting of some sort? “Major Samantha Carter. You’ve never heard of the Tok’ra before?” her question was tinged with doubt. Looking back to where Ty’Mac was sat she saw he was now asleep.
“No, I haven’t,” Aeryn honestly replied. “I assume these Goa’uld are our captors,” she stated more than asked.
Sam looked floored by her comment. If she had no idea who the Goa’uld were, where had she been? Where did she come from? “You’re serious? You really have no idea who they are?” Carter had to admit; Aeryn Sun appeared to be genuine. Either that or she was one heck of an actress.
“I think the answer to that is obvious by my previous comment. What are you? Are you Human? You look it -- but then so do I,” Aeryn pressed on. She wanted as much information as possible; she had no idea how long this Samantha Carter would be alive or stable for.
Carter nodded. “I am. You’re not?” it was a shame they weren’t back at the SGC, Sam had a sneaking feeling this woman had a lot to tell. She had no idea just how much.
“No, I’m Sebacean,” Aeryn answered. From the blank look she received she guessed Sam knew as much about Sebaceans as she did about Goa’uld.
Before the conversation could proceed the door opened again, rousing Ty’Mac from his sleep. The Jaffa from earlier had returned. “The Master requires entertainment. Which of you would like to give it, and who would prefer to watch?” he asked sadistically.
They had a choice. The games had begun.
Author: Samdelfino
Rating: G
Summary: Soon after arriving on a supposedly safe planet SG-1 are attacked by a group of Jaffa loyal to an apparant Goa'uld they are unfamiliar with. When things seem lost they are "saved" by the crew of Moya that believe they are on a Commerce Planet. Things become more complicated when Aeryn is captured, and Sam also appears to have disappeared. As you probably gathered from that I suck at summaries; but please do take a read anyway.
Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing of Stargate: SG-1 or Farscape, not it’s characters, unfortunately. And I’m making diddly squat from this.
Note: I’ve gotten into Farscape recently, so any mistakes I might make related to Farscape I blame on my not knowing everything about the show yet. I’ve written Stargate before but this is my first attempt at anything Farscape related. It’s set around the season 2 mark of Farscape; Stargate timeline, after season 4 but before 7. You might notice that Sam is able to understand Aeryn, without me going into anything about translator microbes being used. The reason why will come up later, it’s because of my OC bad guy. Now on with the show.
Prologue
The screams all bended into one after a while, they echoed off the ice cold walls. Pleading, begging and wailing; but the screaming was the worst, it continued on forever. It seemed that way, near enough. She had seen all types being marched passed her cell the duration of her stay thus far; tough ones, weak ones, tall ones, small ones, old ones and the young. Nobody was safe from the Masters wrath, not even his own subjects. He had quite a temper too, not that he used fear as a coercing tactic straight away. No, he preferred the more psychological technique. The ones that did not die of pain or injury went mad. Maybe the incessant screams weren’t the worst sound after all; it was the Hyena like laughing. Crazed and maniacal, it was a reminder of what awaited those that did not submit. Those that death did not claim.
She had been to the torture chamber only once so far, though that time the pain was not physical. She was rather grateful for that. If she were incapacitated the odds of escape were greatly lessened. Then again, if she lost her mind she would be incapable of thinking up a plan let alone executing one. Perhaps she could not win either way.
Her own session had been interrupted by the arrival of another prisoner; a person that she sensed this Master was greatly interested in. What she assumed was the other prisoners belongings had been planted on the table. A knife, some piece of technology she did not recognise, a radio, a thick black vest and what looked like the crude weapon she had seen on the fake Earth, a gun. Did that mean she was on Earth? John had not described this manner of place in their discussions of his home before. Aeryn had watched the arrival of the other prisoner with interest. There was such a look of intense hate and defiance in the blue eyes of the female newcomer. She would be an asset in times ahead, if this woman was a strong as she first appeared.
The Master, as his minions referred to him, had not been fazed by her show. And instead he had seemed amused and had spoken in such a soft voice it was surprising he could be capable of malicious acts. “I will have fun with the two of you.”
As Aeryn thought back on that short session the day before it struck her suddenly that her captor had been able to understand every word she said. If she was on or near Earth, how was that possible? It could not be, unless they had somehow obtained translator microbes or something similar. There were so many questions buzzing in her mind. But right now none of that mattered. Her top priority was leaving this place.
A bowl of slop was Major Sam Carter’s evening meal. Was it evening? Could be morning, not that it really mattered. Her watch had been damaged in her capture so even if it had not been taken with her other possessions she would have been unable to tell the time. She glanced at the bowl, she had seen worse looking food, but wasn’t quite ready to have a taster just yet though. Even less so since it moved. Maybe she was hallucinating; was that really a two-headed bug she saw swimming in there? Maybe it was one of Nierti’s experiments gone wrong, not that they ever really went right.
Her cellmate shuffled forward along the hard and damp floor on bruised knees, he eyed the slop filled wooden bowl with a ravenous look. He was skin and bone, his ribs poked out; the faded holey shirt barely covered his pasty skin. “Take it,” Carter offered. He did not need telling twice. He began shoveling the ‘food’ into his mouth. A crunch confirmed her suspicion that a bug probably had been lurking around in there somewhere. Insect surprise, it was probably the best thing on the menu. Her cellmate looked like he could do with a bit of meat, and rather the mutated bug than her. As if remembering some manners he held the bowl out to her. Carter tried not to look at it with to much disdain as she politely declined with, “No thanks.”
She took her first proper look at her cell. It was dark, damp and dank and terribly cold. Somebody had forgotten to pay the heating bill. At the same time as hating the low temperature it was also a relief from the baking heat of the surface. There were five cells here; three were empty though one of those looked like it had been occupied recently. They were deep underground and if one did get out of this section a myriad of tunnels were next. Sam had been half drugged when first coming to this cellblock and was too out of it to even attempt memorizing the way out.
She would make every attempt at escaping but, Sam knew, SG-1 would find a way to get to her. And they never failed.
The main door to the cellblock creaked open and a hefty Jaffa bearing an emblem she did not recognise strode inside with the authorative air of a King of old. He stopped in front of her cell, sneering and full of contempt. Her cellmate moved by her to slip the dirty but empty bowl through the bars. The Jaffa took it and left. Dinnertime was over; it didn’t look like there was dessert.
As he came close Carter sensed something. It was the presence of a symbiote. It prompted her first question, “Who are you?”
He looked up from counting his fingers and the muttering he had begun seconds ago stopped. “Ty’Mac, Ty’Mac, that is my name. No more questions, no more. Can’t take more, don’t know anything else. Can’t help, can’t help.” His eyes moistened with tears that threatened to spill.
Sam swallowed, feeling nauseous. She watched him with pity, “Okay, no more questions.”
Aeryn was blanketed by shadow, and was not visible from the main door as yet. There was a torch hung on the far wall and that provided the only light and warmth; it was meagre but better than nothing. She observed the interaction between the other two prisoners, heard the ramblings of a man that had long since lost control of his faculties. But then again that is what Crichton had first thought upon meeting Stark.
She stepped forward and leant against the bars of her own cell. They were the first things Aeryn had checked upon being flung in here. The cell was primitive but sturdy. “They said he was a Tok’ra,” the word meant nothing to her, it was no a race she was familiar with. She thought perhaps it would interest the other warrior. A few microts passed before a reply came, Aeryn thought for a moment she had not been heard, or understood.
“Oh God,” Sam half whispered in disbelief. This apparent shell of a man was a Tok’ra? What had driven him to become like this?
“You know this word?” Aeryn questioned, dispensing with formalities for now. That could wait.
Carter edged as close to the bars as possible, enabling her to get an unobstructed view of the other woman. She hesitated before responding. This woman could not be a Goa’uld if she did not know of the Tok’ra, unless this was a trick and she had been placed in here to gain information. Was this the start of mind games or honest curiosity? Well it couldn’t hurt to tell her what she should already know. “Yes, they oppose the Goa’uld. Who are you?” A question for a question.
Noticing the cautiousness of the blonde woman and guessing what she was doing, a ghost of a smile appeared. Smart Aeryn thought. “Officer Aeryn Sun. And you?”
Sam knew her from somewhere, from recently. It came to her quickly; the torture room. Officer Sun had been there when she had been brought before the Master for the first time. But why? Interrogation or a meeting of some sort? “Major Samantha Carter. You’ve never heard of the Tok’ra before?” her question was tinged with doubt. Looking back to where Ty’Mac was sat she saw he was now asleep.
“No, I haven’t,” Aeryn honestly replied. “I assume these Goa’uld are our captors,” she stated more than asked.
Sam looked floored by her comment. If she had no idea who the Goa’uld were, where had she been? Where did she come from? “You’re serious? You really have no idea who they are?” Carter had to admit; Aeryn Sun appeared to be genuine. Either that or she was one heck of an actress.
“I think the answer to that is obvious by my previous comment. What are you? Are you Human? You look it -- but then so do I,” Aeryn pressed on. She wanted as much information as possible; she had no idea how long this Samantha Carter would be alive or stable for.
Carter nodded. “I am. You’re not?” it was a shame they weren’t back at the SGC, Sam had a sneaking feeling this woman had a lot to tell. She had no idea just how much.
“No, I’m Sebacean,” Aeryn answered. From the blank look she received she guessed Sam knew as much about Sebaceans as she did about Goa’uld.
Before the conversation could proceed the door opened again, rousing Ty’Mac from his sleep. The Jaffa from earlier had returned. “The Master requires entertainment. Which of you would like to give it, and who would prefer to watch?” he asked sadistically.
They had a choice. The games had begun.
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